


Can We Skip Past Near-death Clichés?

by Neeka



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, They just really love each other guys, Worry, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: An illness, a run gone wrong, worry, blood and love“Together or not at all, right?”





	Can We Skip Past Near-death Clichés?

“If ya can make it through the next ten minutes without coughin’ a lung up, you can come.”

“Oh fuck you Daryl,” Paul wheezed out, voice rough before he immediately broke off into hacking coughs. Damn flu.

“Yeah sorry, nothin’ for it. Ya stayin’ here.”

He ducked the soggy teabag Paul fished out of his drink and launched at him, raising his eyebrows as he watched it hit the far wall and slowly slide down it.

“I ain’ cleaning that up, ya damn toddler.”

Paul just huffed, slumping back down on the bed under his mountain of blankets, a sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the flu.

“Hate you going out without me. Doesn’t feel right,” he muttered, eyes on his hands as he twisted them in his lap. God he hated being stuck in bed, it drove him crazy, mind and body too full of it’s usual energy whilst also managing to feel hit with exhaustion like a damn _bus_.

Daryl softened slightly and came over to him, sitting on his side of the bed and pressing a kiss to Paul’s head, one arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah I know, I hate it too. But it’s important man, you know that. Gonna meet up with Rick, hit that mall, split what we find an’ head back home. Easy shit.”

“Well done, now you’ve gone and jinxed it.”

“Quit sulkin’ an’ get better. And stay inside, don’ be goin’ out in the cold and making yaself worse. _Again_.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll just languish here, bored out of my mind. It’s fine.”

Daryl just huffed out a laugh at his dramatics, far too use to what a nightmare Paul was when sick. He’d been pretty amazing actually, the perfect mix of caring and dickish, a combination Daryl had mastered long ago.

“When do you leave?”

“‘Bout another hour.”

Paul grinned suggestively, sliding a hand up Daryl’s thigh. “Hmm, fancy a quickie then?”

“Once again, if ya can go more than ten minutes without coughin’, you can come.”

“Oh my God Daryl was that an innuendo?! I can’t believe it! Quick, get my calendar, I need to mark this down!”

“Fuck off.”

Paul just laughed, sounding more like a pained wheeze really, but feeling a lot brighter than he had before.

“Go on, move over.”

Paul choked. “Wait what, are you serious?”

Daryl shot him a dry look. “No ya fuckin’ idiot, not that. You need sleep an’ I’ve got an hour to kill.”

Paul couldn’t help but melt a little, like he always did when Daryl was being sweet but just didn’t want to be too obvious about it. It turned out that Daryl really rather enjoyed cuddling and Paul never slept as well as he did when he was curled up against the other man.

Deciding not to ruin the moment with any teasing, Paul just scooted over in their bed, watching Daryl fuss about with his twisted blankets until they were sorted again, pilling them all up on Paul as he got on the bed next to him.

They moved together like a well oiled machine, Paul putting his head on Daryl’s chest as the other man slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Paul tried to stay awake, wanting to enjoy the feeling or talk some more, but the hand playing with his hair was far too soothing and soon he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into sleep.

When he slowly creeped his way back into the waking world, he immediately noticed he was alone; one side of his body feeling all wrong without the warm, solid presence of Daryl. Paul had never expected he’d end up like this; his entire being so focused on one individual. He’d always been a very independent person, had to be really, but something about Daryl made him want to cling on and never let go. He’d feel bad about it if he didn’t know Daryl was exactly the same way. They were a team now, still happy to be and do things alone, but always feeling most at home, most themselves when they were together.

Paul knew he was in deep, was in forever really. If he ever lost Daryl, he genuinely didn’t know what he would do. It was something that haunted his dreams and lingered in the back of his waking mind.

Sighing, knowing he’d get no more sleep now, Paul pushed himself up, groaning at his flu achy body. He was just about to stand up when he noticed a piece of paper on Daryl’s pillow. He opened it and smiled, the simple ‘see you tonight’ meaning more to Paul than he could possibly put into words.

After a hot shower and another cup of ginger and lemon tea, he was feeling slightly more human. He’d planned on staying in the trailer like Daryl had all but ordered him to, but there was an irritating, nervous buzzing in the back of his head. He just felt off, nervous over something, and staying in alone would only make it worse. Besides, if he went and saw Maggie in Barrington, he’d still be inside.

He threw on as many layers as he could, Daryl’s thick long sleeve flannel swamping him nicely, before he tucked the note in his pocket and braved the outside world.

Paul hadn’t really been outside much in the past few days, not after heading out to help Earl with fixing the animal pens and getting himself even sicker, much to the annoyance and worry of Daryl. It was strange to have such a strip torn off you whilst the person who was doing the scolding was also motherhenning the living shit out of you.

He got a lot of greetings as he walked to Barrington house, as well as a few warnings, and he was very glad to reach the warmth of the big house. Paul was just making his way past the kitchens when he was all but accosted by Martha and dragged inside.

“Daryl said you’d end up comin’ here. Sit down, you look like shit.”

She pushed him into a seat as he just stared at her, bemused and confused.

“Oh don’ look like that. That boy knows you better than you do. Told me to make sure ya eat somethin’ proper.”

Fucks sake Daryl. Paul began to rise with an apologetic smile. “Err, I was actually just on my way to see Maggie-“

“Sit.”  
  
His ass hit the seat quicker than he’d like to admit. Martha was a damn intimidating woman. She smiled at him approvingly, squeezing his shoulders perhaps a tad tighter than was polite.

“Good boy. Now you stay there whilst I get ya somethin’ to eat.”

Soon he had a small, steaming bowl of chicken and dumpling stew in front of him, his appetite hitting him for the first time in a week. Paul thanked her and gratefully tucked in, enjoying a natter with her as he ate and she peeled veg for tonight’s meal.

He just about managed to finish his food, stomach seeming to have shrunk after eating nothing but the odd cereal bar for a week, before Martha patted him on the cheek like a child and sent him off to see Maggie, refusing his offer of help.

Feeling slightly better, Paul made his way up to Maggie’s room, knocking and entering at her call. She was working as always, going over plans for the expansion they’d decided to chance as soon as the weather improved.

“Jesus! It’s good to see ya up an’ about again!”  
  
“Is Hershel here? I don’t wanna get him sick.”

She smiled and walked over to him for a hug. “No, no, he’s on a play date with Gracie and Aaron. It’s nice for him to have another kid here to grow up with.”

Relieved that he wouldn’t pass his germs onto the little toddler, Jesus settled on the sofa to pass a few hours chatting and helping her plan. It was warm in the room, a nice little fire going and Maggie wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders. It was still so strange to him to have people who’d fuss over him, who cared enough to make sure he was well.

They stayed in the room all day, the stone in his stomach all but ignored until he looked out the window and noticed it was getting dark.

“Maggie? Did Daryl say when he expected to be back? I thought he’d be home before dark.”

The little frown between her eyebrows told him enough; she’d thought that too. Still, she pulled a smile onto her face for him. “I’m sure he’s on his way back now. You know Alexandria likes having him back, I’m sure they were just talkin’ his ear off and he lost track of time.”

The swooping sick feeling was back, but he nodded anyway. Two people each feeling the heavy weight of worry but not wanting to show the other.

But as full dark fell, Paul just couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer. He knew it was irrational to feel so worried, he of all people knew how capable Daryl was, but he just couldn’t help it now. Love had rewritten his very DNA until it was all focused on the other man; on whether he was safe and happy, whether he needed supporting or protecting, everything in Paul wanting to care for Daryl.

The thought that he was out there alone, could be hurt or need help, sent ice through his heart and panic burning through his veins.

Maggie had noticed, her own face creased with worry. “Maybe he decided to stay at Alexandria tonight.”

Paul shook his head, pressing his hands together and all but pacing the room. “No, he said he’d be back tonight Maggie, even put it in a note before he left. There’s no way he’d stay voluntarily, something’s held him up.”

She didn’t contradict him, knowing that Paul knew what he was talking about when it came to Daryl. He felt sick, the foreboding whine in the back of his head getting louder the longer he stayed in the room and the later it got. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it for one more second.

“I’m gonna go wait at the gate. I can’t stay in here any longer.”

Maggie shot him a disapproving look. “Jesus, I know you’re worried but you’ll get sick again if you wait out in this cold.”

“Maggie, please, don’t.”

She nodded reluctantly, pushing the thick blanket into his arms and grabbing her big coat from the cupboard, handing that to him too.

Paul left the room quickly, all but jogging out to the gate. He knew logically that waiting at the gate would make no difference, but it just felt right, like he’d be closer to wherever Daryl was. God, love had turned him into a fucking mess.

“The hell are you doing up here Jesus? Aren’t you still sick?”

He ignored Kal, finishing climbing up the ladder and setting himself up watching over the path in front of them. It was a full moon, illuminating the night and letting him see fairly well.

“Any sign of anyone?”

Kal just looked at him knowingly, shaking his head. Wrapping himself up in the coat and blankets, Paul just fixed his eyes forward, ears waiting for the sound of a car, for anything at all. Despite his nickname, Paul wasn’t religious in the slightest, but he still found himself sending out a prayer to every god he’d ever heard of.

Nothing changed for a while, Paul ignored every concerned glance Kal sent his way, ignored every shiver, every cough. Everything in him focusing, waiting for Daryl to come home.

A few hours later, something finally moved; a walker stumbling out of the woods and ambling slowly towards the gate. Paul’s heart thumped in his chest, skipping a beat, his stomach plummeting for some reason that his brain hadn’t quite figured out yet.

He stood up straighter, leaning forwards to focus better.

“What’s the matter Jesus? ‘S only a walker.”

Then the walker collapsed to the floor and Paul just _knew_.

Throwing off his blanket, ignoring Kal’s alarmed shout, he jumped over the gate, dropping to the ground in a well practiced crouch, before he lunged over to the figure on the ground.

It was Daryl. He’d known it was, he’d felt it.

Skidding to a stop next to him, Paul dropped to his knees, hands gentle as he touched Daryl’s shoulder.

“Daryl? Daryl it’s me, can you hear me?”

Paul could hear shouting from behind him but he couldn’t make out the words. Fear was thick in his throat, heart pounding and hands shaking as they checked over the man in front of him. He was hurt, pretty badly too; blood staining his pants from what looked like a deep bullet graze along his thigh, eye already black and swelling shut, another deep gash from his hip up along his ribs. There was probably more, but by then the gate had opened, Kal and Carson running out to drop next to him.

“Carson, he’s hurt, I think it’s bad. Not sure how much blood he’s lost but you- you need to help him- I can’t-.”

“Jesus you need to step back okay? Let me get to him, let me help him. Okay? Kal?”

Paul felt hands on his arms, gently tugging him up and away. He fought them at first, not wanting to leave Daryl’s side, head fuzzy with panic in a way he normally never let himself get. But the sight of Daryl unconscious, freezing cold and loosing blood sent ice through his veins, oxygen refusing to enter his lungs.

“Come on Jesus, let Carson help.”

Paul finally allowed Kal to pull him to his feet, taking a few shaky steps back and giving Carson the space to move. He watched with his heart in his mouth as the doctor checked Daryl’s pulse before carefully rolling him from his side onto his back, pulling his shirt up to look at the ugly slash on his side. It was still leaking blood, Daryl’s face pale and clammy.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. Jesus, can you put pressure on this while I see to his leg?”

Paul just nodded, dropping back to his knees, tearing off his thick flannel and using it to press hard over Daryl’s side. He didn’t even stir. Paul watched as Carson pressed down on his thigh wound, thanking god, the universe, _whatever_ that it hadn’t hit an artery. In a clatter of motion, Alex and Dante came out with a board, Maggie following and gasping at the sight. Paul just looked at her helplessly.

“You can let go now Jesus, we’ve got it from here. I promise okay? Let go.”

Words just didn’t seem to be filtering right, taking a few moments to even register what Alex has said, let alone try and follow them. He met his ex-something’s eyes and saw nothing but sympathy and a steely strength, a promise that they’d do all they could.

Paul let go, Dante, Alex and Carson jumping into action, carefully lifting Daryl onto the board and rushing back through the gates. Paul stayed kneeling on the ground, eyes stuck on the blood staining the dirt.

“Come on Jesus, come inside. We’ll wait in the medical trailer okay? He’s strong, strongest person I know. He’ll be fine. Did he ever tell you ‘bout the time he stole one of my daddy’s horses and got bucked off? Fell down a hill and landed right on one of his own damn arrows.”

She kept up her shaky chatter, Paul dragging himself to his feet and letting himself be taken inside. His eyes never left his blood stained hands.

Maggie lead him into the medical trailer, pulling him away from the closed door separating him from Daryl and forcing him to take a seat in what served as the waiting room. His ass hit the seat, legs deciding they’d had enough of operating without his brain’s involvement. Nausea hit him as he turned to Maggie.

“He’s been through worse right? He’s survived worse hasn’t he? He’ll be fine?”

Maggie just grabbed his hand, mindless of the blood and nodded. “Yeah he has. He won’t leave you, not now. They’ll fix him up and he’ll be just fine. You won’t lose him.”

“You won’t either.” He finally managed to whisper, clinging back just as tight to her also shaking hand. She’d lost enough, she didn’t deserve to lose Daryl too.

Time went funny for a while after that, the two of them clinging to each other like a port in a storm, eyes fixed on the closed door, waiting for it to open and tell them if someone they both loved would be okay. Paul honestly didn’t know what he’d do if Daryl wasn’t okay, he couldn’t imagine his life without him now.

It was alarming actually, just how much of himself was intwined with Daryl, how it felt utterly implausible to imagine trying to separate that. He’d never felt like this before in his life, not even a fraction of it. Paul knew that if Daryl died, he’d spend the rest of his life feeling like half his very being was missing.

After what felt like a lifetime, the door finally opened, Carson stepping out and shutting it behind him. Paul jumped to his feet, Maggie doing the same. He was fully aware that his entire life could change based on whatever came out of Carson’s mouth in the next few seconds; it was like leaning over a cliff and knowing there was one step between where he was now, and falling over the edge into nothingness.

“Carson? Is... is he okay?”

Carson sighed and for a moment, Paul’s entire world ground to a halt, knees weak enough to drop him in a second. But then the doctor nodded, and it was like the sun came out.

“He’s going to be fine. He’s very banged up mind you and lost just a little less blood then would be dangerous, but not enough to need a transfusion. He’s going to need care and time to heal up though, which I completely wash my hands of!”

Paul and Maggie both huffed a laugh, relief flooding through them so fast it knocked them giddy.

“Can I see him?” Paul asked, desperate to just look at Daryl, to touch him and know he was still there, that he wasn’t going to leave him.

Carson nodded. “Of course. I doubt he’ll wake up for a while though. He’s not totally out of the woods yet, we’ve got him on antibiotics to try and prevent infection but there’s always a chance it’ll crop up anyways. He was out there with open wounds for a while.”

As relieved as he was, that fact still sent a shiver through him, heart missing a beat at the thought of how Daryl had got in such a state. There were so many questions Paul wanted to ask and it bit at him that he’d have to wait. But Daryl was the most important thing, as long as he was okay, they’d deal with the rest later.

Not able to stay away a second longer, Paul turned to give Maggie a relieved hug, clapping Carson on the shoulder with a heart felt thank you before opening the door and stepping inside.

God, he’d seen Daryl bloody and messed up too many times to count, he was getting really fucking sick of it to be honest. He was on the bed, pale and covered in bandages, Alex fussing over his IV line until he noticed Paul, stuck to the spot and shaking in the doorway.

“You okay?”

Paul managed to nod, moving forward on weak legs to drop into the seat by the bed, offering Alex a weak smile and a thank you as he left, shutting the door behind him and leaving only Paul and Daryl in the room.

“Daryl?” He chanced, voice shaky as he took hold of Daryl’s cold, limp hand. But the man stayed unconscious, not even twitching at the sound of Paul’s voice or the squeeze of his hand.

He was breathing though, that’s all that mattered. Daryl would heal up as always and they’d be fine. Pressing a kiss to the rough, split knuckles, Paul settled back into the criminally uncomfortable seat to wait.

But as usual, waiting in the silence gave Paul’s mind ample time to run itself ragged over the what ifs, the whys, the whats. He’d been so focused on Daryl that he’d only just thought about Rick, about whether he was also hurt or worse.

Paul wasn’t too concerned though; he knew Daryl. If Rick had been with him whenever this happened, there was no way he’d have turned up at Hilltop alone. Daryl would never have left Rick, whether the other man was dead or injured.

If he’d been hurt, Daryl would have moved heaven and earth to get him help and if the situation was bad enough to kill him, well, Daryl would be dead too. That’s just how he was.

Paul suspected Maggie thought the same thing, knowing Daryl as long as she did. All they could do for now is wait for Daryl to wake up and fill them in before they chanced sending a runner to Alexandria.

Nothing changed with Daryl for hours. Paul stayed glued to his seat, Maggie coming in with a cup of tea for him and a kiss for Daryl, sitting with him for a little while before heading back to Hershel. Carson came in twice more, checking Daryl over and setting Paul’s mind at ease. Nothing to do but wait.

Eventually, just when Paul was sure he’d lose his damn mind, Daryl started to twitch, a confused grumble leaving him. Paul shot forward, stroking his hair and squeezing his hand, speaking to him gently.

“Daryl? It’s me, it’s Paul. Can you hear me? Come on, wake up you utter prick.”

Finally, _finally_ , Daryl opened the one eye not currently swollen as fuck, focusing in on Paul.

“Can you hear me? You with me?”

For a moment there was nothing, Paul’s stomach dropping to his feet.

“... dya call me a prick for?”

Paul let out a relieved laugh, leaning forward and pressing his forehead gently against Daryl’s.

“Coz you scared the absolute shit out of me Daryl. Don’t ever do that to me again or I’ll kick your ass myself. Fucking _hell_.”

“... sorry Paul. Got back to ya though right? Promised I would.”

Tears pricked behind Paul’s eyes. “Yeah,” he choked, kissing Daryl’s hand again, squeezing as tight as he dared. “Yeah you did.”

Daryl drifted off to sleep again after that, Paul briefly leaving the room to let Carson know. They still had to be mindful of infection, but he was pretty sure they were over the worst of it. Paul was so relieved he couldn’t help but pull the surprised doctor into a tight hug, promising to get him whatever the hell he wanted on his next run.

Paul returned quickly to Daryl’s side, wishing the bed was big enough to lie next to him. As it was, he just pulled his chair forward as close as possible and slumped forward, head resting next to the hand holding Daryl’s, his free one resting lightly over the injured man’s heart. Paul just needed to feel it beating as he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

Daryl had survived yet again and would continue to do so. Paul would accept nothing less. They lived together or they died together but nothing would tear this man away from him.

Paul woke up a few hours later to Daryl and Carson talking quietly to each other. He also noticed Daryl’s hand was absentmindedly stroking and playing with his hair. Whilst this was a normal thing in private, Daryl was rarely physically demonstrative around other people. This whole situation must have shook Daryl up just as much as it had Paul.

He stayed still, enjoying the feeling and the knowledge that Daryl was obviously doing as well as could be expected, until Carson finally left.

Lifting his head, Paul locked eyes with Daryl. His face was even more colourful; varying shades of black, purple and yellow, one eye swollen shut and his lip split. It made Paul as scared as it did angry, knowing there were much worse wounds hidden under bandages. If Daryl had been any slower getting to Hilltop, or collapsed any further away, he wouldn’t be here right now. Paul would be all alone.

“Ya look like shit.”

Paul scoffed, sitting up properly and cracking his back out, flipping Daryl the bird. “Well you don’t look too good yourself asshole.”

He tried to keep it light, but his voice still cracked, Daryl’s face softening.

“Hey, I’m okay. Bit banged up but it ain’t nothin’ new.”

But Daryl’s words didn’t calm him, if anything it only made Paul worse, hands shaking slightly.

“Fuck,” Daryl muttered, reaching out to take Paul’s hands in his. “I’m sorry I scared ya Paul.”

Paul nodded, lowering his head and just breathing for a moment, feeling Daryl’s rough but now warm hands in his own, knowing that he was there in front of him, hurt but alive.

“How-,” he broke off, clearing his throat and trying again. God his emotions were fucked to hell. “How’d it happen? Is Rick okay?”

Daryl nodded, Rick was fine just like Paul had suspected.

“Yeah, we hit the mall, didn’t get much but it was an okay haul. Headed to Alexandria first and split it up, then I started back. Didn’t get far when a bunch of fuckers shot out the car’s tires and surrounded me.”

Daryl paused, hands twitching as he refused to meet Paul’s eyes. “I err, I thought they were Saviours at first,” he muttered. “Froze up for a second. ‘S all they needed really. I got out the car and tried to fight em off, shot two but one of em got a lucky shot at my leg. Then they all pounced an’ outnumbered me.”

He chuckled darkly. “Guess I’m gettin’ old now. Slow or somethin’. Probably woulda killed me if the horde of walkers hadn’t come out the woods. Had to leave the car an’ the stuff, but they did too. Need to send someone to see if it’s still there.”

Paul nodded, he’d let Maggie know soon. Hopefully it was still there, more for the car than the supplies. He squeezed Daryl’s hands for him to continue.

“Well, managed to get myself back here an’ that’s all I remember. Was nearly outta it but I said I’d be back. Couldn’ let ya down. Didn’t... didn’t wanna leave ya.”

Paul’s throat closed up again, love and fear and gratitude welling up in him until he couldn’t help but lean over Daryl and press a gentle kiss to his lips. Pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against Daryl’s and shut his eyes tight against the tears threatening to fall.

“I’m so glad you did Daryl,” he whispered. “Was so scared. Don’t know what I’d do without you now. Can’t imagine it an’ I don’t want to. I love you Daryl. You can’t die before me okay?”

Daryl just kissed him again. “Love you too. An’ you ain’t dying before me neither. Together or not at all, right?”

Paul huffed out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, together or not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anon wanted Daryl getting hurt on a bad run and collapsing at Hilltop’s gates. Might be a few days late, but here it is! God I am really enjoying writing for these two! It’s really got me out of my writers block! If anybody else wants to throw a Desus prompt at me, go for it :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, drop me a comment if you did :) xxxx


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